Farm

The last half of Farm starts suffering from verse repetition, slower songs never matching the ballast of 'Ocean in the Way.' Farm does reach beyond 2007's "Beyond."

They’ve yet to lose it: Farm comes in a bit longer and countrified than its predecessor, but it’s also a more muscular and emotional album.

This is one mighty album, one that will tower over others like the green shrubs that tower over the buildings on the cover.

So, finally, to Farm, which every bit the equal of "Beyond;" maybe even better.

Frontman J Mascis is more than capable of stirring up a whirlwind of melodic feedback, suitable for heshers of any age.

With standards so consistently high, picking further peaks is a tough call but the surging wah squel of 'Over It' and 'I Don't Wanna Go There's' stellar guitar squall also score way up at the top of the scale. [Jul 2009, p.105]

There’s also no denying the power of their bittersweet, socially inept aggression, and the ferocity of their sound on Farm. But, as truly gifted as Mascis is on the guitar and as surly as Barlow is vocally, this is merely Dinosaur fossilised, leaving you hankering for something a little more daring.

Farm succeeds just where Beyond did, by being an absolutely awesome record. If there’s one thing that can be taken away from it, it’s that we can all relax now and let Dinosaur Jr. do their thing.

Farm actually bests "Beyond’s" triumphs.

As catchy and well-crafted as these songs are, they never feel restricted or overly polished. Each track is given room to grow, stretching into extended intros, impulsive solos, and oft-repeated verses.

Although Farm sacrifices some immediacy and fire for expansive emotionalism and nuance, the album is a solid addition to the Dinosaur Jr. catalog and one whose highlights may prove even better with time.

Dinosaur Jr. set the standard for convulsive indie-rock guitar fireworks in the Eighties. Incredibly, the band's original lineup--guitarist J Mascis, bassist Lou Barlow and drummer Murph--hasn't lost a thunderous step.

Apparently, you can go home again, and it's still plenty loud and comfortable.

Even though Farm may be the album we (should have) expected from Dinosaur Jr., it is still an excellent record that offers a variety of different qualities, while remaining as much fun to listen to as they have ever been.

Farm sounds like the best alt-rock album that 1993 forgot.

Mascis's unique talents have ossified into a signature, so discerning any difference between this set of tunes and, say, his solo albums of the early oughts or latter-day Dinosaur Jr. albums is tough work. If, to you, that means more awesome Mascis crunchwork, then be psyched, because this record slays, the rocking is sloppy-yet-tight, and nothing on here would sound like a drag if tossed into a setlist amongst older classics.

The solos are majestic and Barlow even contributes a couple of thumpers. Nobody does this better.